Drunken Gamble
by Vee-sempai
Summary: Hanatarou takes some advice and goes for what he wants. GanjuHanatarou


It had been Lieutenant Matsumoto's idea, and he would be forever grateful for that. She had even provided the sake, and the excuse, and occupied Captain Unohana so she wouldn't check that he was making his rounds. He wasn't sure why- the only thing he could figure was if Captain Hitsugaya wouldn't let her interfere in his private business, she needed some other outlet. He wasn't about to refuse, that would be impolite. He'd thought, if worst came to worst and nothing happened- like he'd expected- it would just be a fun night. He could deal with the headache tomorrow.

She'd spent some time giving him tips, too- though she'd admitted her usual techniques didn't work with him, without a pretty womanly figure and actual experience and such things. But men were men, she said, and the sake should help. "Just sauce him up," she'd teased, "and flutter your eyelashes. He'll be on you in a second."

Well, Hanatarou was aware that he was in the possession of eyelashes, but he was really better at blinking than fluttering. Maybe it wouldn't look so strange when he was drunk.

The "getting him drunk" part went like a charm. Three bottles were gone before he really had settled into one cup, and his face was flushed with alcohol and he was laughing, clapping him on the shoulder, ruffling his hair and talking about old times. Just like he'd expected. If nothing else happened, he would be happy. He'd spend another night painfully unsatisfied and longing, but he'd be happy.

Maybe he'd started to drink a little faster to keep up, but soon enough the room was getting hotter and started spinning a little, and he wobbled- with a particularly spectacular display of helplessness, if he did say so himself, straight into his side, then his lap. "Pretend it's an accident," she had said. "Gets 'em every time." And it was easy enough- they were both drunk, and Ganju-san didn't have the best observational skills.

Strong arms supported him, and he shivered a little at the muscles that dug into his sides. The candles were slowly flickering out, one by one, and he couldn't see anything but shadows when he stretched up to kiss him. It was better that way, because he missed the first time, and he couldn't have tried again if he'd seen his face.

When he managed to find his mouth, Ganju kissed him back- awkward, sloppy and confused, but he didn't turn him away. He was letting him press into his broad chest, grab onto his vest, gasp a little into his mouth and knock over a half-empty sake bottle when he moved his foot. Big hands were gripping his back, holding him still, and it felt wonderful.

"Hana-" There was confusion rumbling in his voice, shuddering through him where he sat perched on his legs, and for a moment Hanatarou panicked. Talking had not been part of the plan, and it got fouled up now, he simply didn't know what he'd do. So he just kissed him again, mumbling a desperate, plaintive 'I want to' against him, followed with a gasp and a 'please' when his hands hesitated at his waist.

Maybe it was the haze of the sake- he'd really had too much, he'd be regretting it in the morning- but how he'd gone from upright to on his back, straining up against Ganju's weight. One sandal was half off, a leg of the hakama pushed up to his knee, belt coming undone. Like a dam had been broken- like his words had yanked out the last two nails holding up a dam eroded by alcohol and time- he wasn't sure he could stop these powerful hands now if he tried.

"Ganju-san..." He could feel every burn mark on his palm, pushing along his ribcage and feeling curiously over his stomach. He wasn't looking at him- and suddenly, even as intoxicated as he was, he was unsure, almost hesitating, like he was going to be pushed away. Like he'd remembered what he was doing. iPlease don't stop/i, he wanted to say, but settled for curling thin fingers around his wrist and pushing, watching his face. His eyes felt so heavy, only fluttering more at the drag of his palm over his hips. Ganju jerked in what seemed like surprise when his fingers encountered him- hard, throbbing, desperate, what felt like a permanent state for so long.

He iwanted/i, oh so badly.

Then he squeezed him, like he'd never seen someone else aroused before, making him jump and squirm and moan. Then again, and again, eyes rapt on him, until he was lifting up into his hand over and over, begging with little whimpers and cries- iplease, this isn't enough/i.

It hurt at first- Ganju was ibig/i, and he was small next to him in every respect, and it was harder to be restrained than he'd expected it to be. He could feel him shake, moving slowly, and all he wanted was to impale himself to the hilt and beg for more. But no- no, he was patient, he'd been patient so very long.

It paid off, pain easing slowly away, his thin hips jerking up in supplication and Ganju growling something against him, the increasing strength behind his thrusts the answer he'd been looking for. Another bottle fell, his fingers digging into the wooden floor, legs braced on broad shoulders, air coming in breathy gasps and whimpers. Yes. iYes/i.

Maybe it was the sake, maybe it was wanting it so long, but it all went very quickly. Minutes later, the last candle flickered out, sake dripped across the floor, and they were in a heap, panting.

Ganju was very heavy, but it was easy enough to roll him onto his side when he fell asleep. It was a momentary consideration of whether or not he should clean up- fourth squad instincts were strong in Hanatarou- but he forewent the call to duty to instead curl up next to him, hoping the door was locked.

He'd planned on a headache tomorrow. It would just be a different kind. 


End file.
